Looks like a mild winter,
although the streets are cold,
the streets are always cold.
Burning tires pass us by
like they can't wait to be somewhere new.

It was a riotous summer.
Thunderheads hot like a fever
on my sunburnt brow.
When I took that vow, I thought,
this must be somewhere new.

Glory fades like the last rays
of the last sun on the last day
in a lost town.
When a month goes by without you
I think of thunderheads
and young souls
on an old ground.
And maybe time will test you
until the rains wash you
down
down
down.
Or maybe you'll stand and bow.

Across Ohio she's writing reflections.
I can see my own reflection, as I stand
to leave the room.
How can I stand who I've become,
when my past isn't kind?

I've got this fear about living,
'cause it comes with dying.
I am dying to be good to her
in the time I have, my God,
what will we do with all this time?

Passion fades like the last rays
of the last sun on the last day
on an old ground.
When a month goes by without her
I think of ice cream on a gray day
in a cold town.
And maybe time will test us
until the rains wash us
down
down
down.
Or maybe we'll stand and bow.

I'm watching the haze
of the last rays of an old sun
fading to brown.
When a month goes by, I question.
Was it real? Or did I miss
what I should have found?
Time can make us all
a little stronger, if we break the walls
that cause us not to see round.
And we turn to face what's now.